


Glad the waters are so shallow (when the river runs so cold)

by usedupshiver



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Denial, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Self-Hatred, Soulmates, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony is not Iron Man, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedupshiver/pseuds/usedupshiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This all had to be some kind of mistake, and Tony had told them so. Tony Stark didn't have a soulmate. And if he did, it wouldn't be a man...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glad the waters are so shallow (when the river runs so cold)

**Author's Note:**

> (Title borrowed with love from the song Shallow, by Poets of the Fall.)

**\--- Day 1 ---**

Tony had tried telling them all it was a mistake. He really had. So when this all went to shit, they couldn't blame him for not trying. Okay? He just wanted that on the record.

There was no way he could be locked away from the world for thirty days. No way at all. He had a business to run. A pretty damn huge one, at that. Stark Industries? Might have heard of it? Used to be world-leading weapons manufacturers, now the biggest name in clean energy, computers, programming, and affordable phones and tablets. Yeah, that one. That was all Tony. He'd had an up close and personal encounter with a missile with his name on it and reconsidered everything he knew about the world.

Among other things that the man he'd more or less considered a father had tried to kill him. Twice.

Anyway. Not important right now. Because this was somehow an even bigger mess. Big enough that no-one seemed to care that Tony couldn't leave his company and fifty-three charities all on their own for a month. It just wasn't possible.

Even Pepper – that complete traitor oh boy was she ever fired – just smiled at him and told him she had things under control. He had more important things to do right now, he should relax and leave it all to her. She had it. It was all good.

And Tony wanted to scream at her because _it was not good at all_ and he wanted out.

They told him he'd met his soulmate, and that the two of them needed the traditional thirty days of Seclusion. Time for them to settle, get used to the bond, work out their relationship and their future. A time of calm and joy, they told him. A good thing.

Tony told them in turn that it was a mistake. All a mistake. And really, Tony Stark was the master of mistakes, so when he told them that this had MISTAKE written all over it in huge, bold lettering they should just take his word for it. He knew his shit.

There was no way he was someone's soulmate. Had the universe even _met_ him? Come on! He was a self-centered asshole, he was shallow and vain, he had a too sharp tongue and enjoyed cutting people with it a bit too much, he didn't play well with others, he hated everyone (except Pepper and Rhodey) and that included himself, he drank too much and cared too little. Greedy, capricious, manic, obsessed, narcisisstic and did he mention an asshole, and what the everloving fuck did he have to offer a mate? Not even fate could be cruel enough to bind him to someone else. Some innocent bystander who deserved better, because there definitely wasn't anyone worse to be soulbound to, that much was for sure.

It just couldn't happen, he told them.

_(All the while ignoring the way his very being felt restless, his skin too tight and tingling and hungry, his heart beating too hard behind the reactor casing, thumping against metal, having gotten a sniff of something it wanted and was eager to reach out for more.)_

They told him it most definitely had happened, and that they now needed the month of Seclusion, just like everyone else. It would be fine, as soon as they got some time to themselves, he just had to wait and see.

At least he had persuaded them that there was no way in fuck he was spending thirty days in one of the public Seclusion Houses. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. Even the most exclusive ones were basically hotel suites and not even the kind he liked. He had a perfectly fine mansion perched on the cliffs of Malibu Point, thank you very much, one no-one could get to uninvited and that could be cut off from the world very effectively. Tony knew – he'd done it, more than once.

Sure, he wouldn't be allowed to stay the whole month in his workshop, like he would have wanted, and he wasn't supposed to get drunk either. But at least he would be in his own home, know where everything was, and he'd still have JARVIS to talk to and not just this poor stranger stuck with him for thirty days.

And yeah, that ”not supposed to get drunk” thing? That was the reason he'd collected every bottle from the bar in the livingroom, the wine rack and wine cooler in the kitchen, and carried it all down to the 'shop before ordering JARVIS to lock it up for thirty days starting now.

Okay so he had left the bottle of vodka hidden in his closet and the scotch stashed in the back of his bathroom cupboard but a guy needed an out in case of emergency. Anything else was just not humane. But he was actually not planning on getting drunk. He wasn't. Honest. If they were deluded enough to believe this ”Tony Stark has a soulmate” bullshit, then he just had to prove them wrong. And when the two of them walked out of the mansion in a month and weren't bonded at all, he wanted to be able to tell them _I told you so!_ without them having any technicalities to hold against him and make him try again. He was doing this by the book, just to show them it wasn't real. That it was a mistake.

That still didn't stop Tony from almost starting to cry when he watched the glass walls around the workshop go black. That space was his home more than any other part of the mansion and being locked out for thirty days was just cruel and unusual punishment, as far as he was concerned. But just like staying sober, it was a sacrifice he had to make. Thirty days of being deprived of the few things in life he appreciated might be worth getting this soulmate business put to rest so he could be left alone again.

”Your guest has arrived, sir.” JARVIS's unusually gentle voice still startled him from his thoughts.

Tony sucked in a long, shuddering breath and made himself turn from the tinted windows to walk back up the stairs. His guest. What a fucking joke.

When he reached the ground floor JARVIS had already unlocked the front door and let his so-called guest into the house. And why not? This would be home for the both of them for the month, no matter what Tony felt about that. So at the top of the stairs Tony stopped and stared, once again slapped in the face with just how badly the universe had screwed them both over.

Because even though he'd hoped it was a mistake, even on his own part, that he remembered this all wrong, there it was now. Right in front of him. And he was all sober and awake and there was no pretending it wasn't real.

Tony's supposed soulmate was a _guy_. And wasn't that just the fucked up icing on this bullshit cake?

A tall, slim, on the verge of lanky guy. Pale and black-haired. Shifting a bit as he moved his weight from one foot to the other, fixed in Tony's stare. His face had fine features, his hair longish, and those wide, green eyes were damn pretty but yeah, no, that chest was flat as a board and there was no explaining away the hint of a bulge in those black jeans. All guy, doubtlessly.

And just like when they had first met, Tony felt his gut twist in a sharp-edged panic. 

They had gone to the same restaurant. Just by chance. Nothing sinister about it. Tony had been there on a business lunch, talking to a guy who had developed an idea for an app Tony was interested in buying, seeing huge potential in integrating it in the next version of the Starkphone. And Loki? Poor bastard had been there on a date. Tony even had a faint memory of the girl, some blonde bombshell in a green dress, and he couldn't help feeling sorry for Loki that now he'd never get a chance to hit that. 

Because was there a bigger turn-off than your date stopping dead in his tracks on the way back from the restroom because he'd come face to face with his goddamned soulmate? And that was that. No more free lunch for you.

Why did it have to be in a public place? Tony knew the rumours must be all over by now – Tony Stark meeting soulmate in crowded three star restaurant in Malibu. _Male_ soulmate...

Fuck...

The biggest cosmic joke of all time. Only Tony wasn't fucking laughing.

He'd heard that meeting your soulmate was supposed to be a happy occasion. The feeling of joy and calm and peace and pleasure. Yeah, no, he hadn't felt any of that. He'd just felt that odd tug at what might have been called his heart-strings, if he'd been a complete sap which he wasn't so fuck you, and then all he had know was a deep, soul-wrenching terror. Screaming, howling horror. Although he hadn't made so much as a noise, breath locked in his lungs.

Mistake. All a mistake. Huge mistake.

Would someone just show up and take it back soon? Just tell him no, sorry Tony, it was all some glitch, bug in the program, of course this isn't your soulmate. Wouldn't that be dumb? I mean come on, we all know you're all about the ladies. This is obviously all wrong. Excuse us. We'll just take this poor guy away and leave you be. All a mistake. Nothing to see here. Carry on.

But it hadn't happened and here Loki was, in his house, waiting, watching him with those wide, wary, green eyes and for the second time in a matter of minutes Tony wanted to cry. He felt something inside him shrivel up and die, and he wondered if it wasn't the last fragile pieces of his hope. Even though he didn't know why he'd still been hoping in the first place. If anyone knew what a cruel bitch life was, it was Tony Stark. Maybe he'd just thought he'd had his share of shit by now?

”Hi, Tony”, Loki greeted, when he seemed to have decided that Tony wasn't going to be the first one to speak.

”Hey.” It came out a raspy, strangled mess, even that one syllible, and Tony made himself shake the panic off, stand up straight, and flash Loki a brigh and completely fake grin. ”I'll show you around.” All polite host auto pilot.

Kitchen, livingroom, balcony, and then – bedroom. 

They were supposed to share a bed. The mere thought made Tony want to curl up in a ball and plead for mercy because no. And he still had no choice because that was the way it was during Seclusion, when they were supposed to be close to each other, all the time, and if he wanted this done right he had to play along even though chills of pure disgust slipped down his spine, into his gut, coiling thick, threatening to make him heave.

He still hadn't touched Loki. Not even reaching his hand out for a shake. And if he had any choice in the matter they would stay at arm's lenght – at the very least – for the entire thirty days.

Tony showed Loki the closet space where he could unpack his clothes. The ensuite bathroom where he could wash off the travel dust. Then he fled, with the excuse that Loki should take some time to settle in.

He ended up on the balcony again, hands gripping the railing like claws, knuckles white, sucking down gulps of salty ocean air and trying not to succumb to the anxiety attack flashing gray in his peripheral vision.

How was he supposed to deal with this? It was all a mistake, and for fucking once, it wasn't even his.

* * *

Dinner was an awkward mess.

They sat across the table from each other, poking at their meals in tense silence, and Tony felt like every second ticking by was more proof that they could be no such thing as soulmates. If they had been, this would have been easier. Natural. They would have felt connected, or some shit. Ignoring the fact that he knew very well that wasn't true. Soulmates started out as strangers, just like everyone else. They would still need to get to know each other – which was what this month was all about.

”This is a great place”, Loki said at last, placing his utensils on his barely touched plate and pushing it aside. ”It's nice of you to offer me to stay here for the month.”

Tony blinked at him, and then stared down at his vegetables again. ”Sure.” Right, because that's why he'd insisted they stay here. Because he was _nice_.

”My apartment is about the size of your bedroom. Not exactly enough for two. But I don't need much, really. I spend all my time by the computer anyway, writing, and that doesn't take much space so I'm fine. It's.... fine.” Loki was rambling a bit, and Tony realized he wasn't the only one feeling the tense awkwardness. 

Somehow that helped, just a little. He glanced up at Loki, saw that his head was bowed down, the nail of a slim, white index finger tracing the edge of the table, his pale forehead creased. Tony had a moment when he wanted to tell the guy it would be all right, he didn't have to live in some crappy little apartment in the suburbs anymore because he was with Tony, now, and this was his home now and then it was like he'd been punched in the gut. 

What the fuck was he thinking?

The nausea came back with a vengeance and he didn't have time to even excuse himself before he knocked the chair over, rushed out of the room, into the nearby kitchen, and threw up what little dinner he'd eaten into the sink. Panting and shivering in a cold sweat he sank down on the floor, back to the counter and knees drawn up to his chest protectively, and saw Loki hovering in the doorway, a concerned look on his face.

”You okay?”

Tony shook his head and then just let it drop wordlessly to his forearms, folded across his knees. He was so far from okay it wasn't in the same universe. And fuck did he need a drink...

He heard footsteps come padding closer over the floor tiles and just had time to see a long-fingered hand reach out for his shoulder before he made a growling, inhuman noise of protest and wrenched himself to the side, away, curling up and glaring at Loki's shocked face.

”Don't fucking touch me.” Hoarse through his sore throat.

With a visibly strained swallow Loki sat back on his heels where he'd gone to kneel by Tony's side, pulled both hands back and folded them around each other in his lap. His eyes were wide and liquid and his cheeks even whiter than before, mouth a narrow line of distress.

”Tony?” Loki sounded all gravel too, and had to clear his throat before carrying on. ”You know it'd help, right? If I... touched you? You'd feel better.”

And Tony wanted to laugh hysterically, scream in his face, because no he would not. Definitely not. No way that would help. 

”Do I look like it would help?”, he ground out, twisting to face Loki and move away a bit more at the same time, as if ready for an attack. ”I'm not some damn sissy who needs to hug it out with a _guy_ to feel better. All right? I don't want you to fucking touch me. Just... don't.”

If Loki's cheeks had been pale before they were completely ashen now. His green eyes turned dull, and for a moment Tony almost thought he was about to pass out right there on the kitchen floor. But then Loki just stood up, swayed a little, steadied himself with a hand on the edge of the counter, and walked out of the room.

Tony watched him leave, and then curled up with his back lodged in the closest corner, still on the floor, arms around his legs, and stared into nothing. He had no idea how long he stayed like that, but when it felt like he could breathe again he unfolded himself, got up, and walked to the bedroom. In the dim lights he could see the shape under the covers that was Loki's long, lanky body, close to the edge on the side of the bed Tony had assigned him, and for a moment he stopped in the doorway, hesitating, before he made himself walk into the bathroom, dress in pajama pants and a t-shirt. Then he brushed the taste of vomit and disgust out of his mouth, walked to his side of the bed, and mirrored Loki's position right by the edge of the mattress.

He barely slept at all, but he still stayed there all night, staring at the dark room and feeling his frantic thoughts scurry around in his head, chasing each other in circles. He didn't think he'd felt this trapped even in that cave in Afghanistan. At least that one had been something he could escape. Yeah, it had cost him, dearly, but he'd gotten himself out and he was fine. At least for some definition of fine. He was free, so there was that.

This? He couldn't escape this.

Tony clenched his teeth and gripped his pillow a bit tighter. No, that wasn't right. He would get out of this mess, too. It was all a mistake, after all, and very soon Loki would figure out that Tony wasn't exactly soulmate material, and then he'd pack his bags back up and leave and it would be fine. 

For some definition of fine.

_(And if sometime during the night he was sure he could hear muffled sobs from the other side of the bed, and if it made his body ache with a wish to reach out and comfort, hold, touch, then he pretended it was all just a bad dream and another mistake.)_

  
  


**\--- Day 4 ---**

They barely exchanged more than three words over the next couple of days, but even so, against his will, Tony came to learn more and more about Loki as the hours trickled by.

He learned that Loki was a morning person, always awake and out of bed by the time Tony stirred. Usually he had left plenty of coffee behind for Tony to find, since he quickly figured out that his host was anything but happy about mornings.

He learned that Loki enjoyed reading. Sometime during the second day he must have found the library, because after that Tony never saw him without a book within reach – if his long nose wasn't buried in one already.

He also learned that when Loki read something engaging he got a tense look around his eyes, a line between his neat, black eyebrows, and that he tended to twirl some of his shoulder-length hair around a finger whenever he got thoughtful.

He learned that Loki got fed up with the ready-made meals the freezer was stocked with and took to cooking their lunches and dinners. Even though they didn't eat together again after that first night's dinner. He was damn good at it, too.

Somehow, this made Tony learn some things about himself, along the way. Things he quickly pushed aside and tried to forget about and deny ever happened.

Things like that he also wanted to learn what Loki looked like when he smiled, when he was relaxed and carefree, when he wasn't locked up in a house with a supposed soulmate who didn't want him within spitting distance. Because, yeah, no, that didn't make either over them very happy, relaxed or carefree, to be honest.

He learned that he spent a suspicious amount of time learning about and studying Loki.

He learned that when he discovered that Loki snored – soft, tiny little kitten snores – it didn't piss him off and annoy him royally the way he would have expected. Instead, Tony found it oddly adorable. 

Weird times.

On the fourth day though, it seemed Loki had had enough of Tony's silent treatment, and was ready to shake things up.

So when Tony was sitting in the softly warm afternoon sunlight on the balcony, Loki came to find him. He sat down on the edge of the lounge chair next to the one where Tony was stretched out with a tablet in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. Looking unfairly good in thin, soft sweatpants and a longsleeved t-shirt. Reluctantly Tony let the tablet drop to his stomach and looked up at his serious face, fine-boned jaw already set in a way that made Tony's pulse jump because fuck, no way was he getting out of this unscathed.

”We're supposed to be using these thirty days to get to know each other, Tony”, he started as soon as he'd caught Tony's eyes.

And Tony wanted to object that he'd gotten to know plenty, but he knew that wouldn't be very wise.

”We don't get a do-over for this, you know?” Loki leaned a bit closer on his elbows, fingers tangling together and betraying his nerves. ”We're in this for life, no matter what we make of it. Do you really want to make it into one long, awkward silence?”

”No, we're not”, Tony snapped, sitting up sharply and making the tablet drop into his lap. ”This isn't it. No way is this it!” He'd kept silent for days, but suddenly the words and the anger and the fear and resentment were pouring out of him. The words cut his throat and tasted like bile on his tongue but they just kept on coming. ”This is all one huge mistake, and you can't tell me different, because we're supposed to be each other's perfect person, and you're not it. You can't be it. Because that can't happen and I'm Tony fucking Stark and I don't fucking work that way. I don't!” He gasped for a quick breath before he went on, not stopped by the sharp glint of what was either pain or fury in Loki's emerald eyes. ”You're out here trying to make shit right but you can't, because this isn't right. It's a fucking mistake and the sooner you accept it, the better!”

He was panting when he was done, breaths hissing in his throat, heart beating so fast his whole body was trembling in time with the frantic rhythm.

Loki stared at him in silence for what felt like ages, a muscle in his jaw twitching now and then, his blinking a bit too frequent and rapid, but other than that he didn't move. Then one corner of his mouth curled up in a kind of humourless little smirk.

”You're an idiot.” The words were surprisingly calm, matter of fact. ”A bond triggering can't be a mistake. That's not how this works. And if you think driving me off will work, you're even more of an idiot. Because I can't leave and you know that.”

Clenching his teeth so hard he thought he might chip a tooth, Tony turned his head to glare at the innocent Pacific. He wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and scream so he wouldn't have to hear the words said out loud. But it was already too late because there they were. Truth clouding the air like toxic fog.

”So all this is because I'm a man?”

It really wasn't. That was just the most tangible part of Tony's problems. The most easily quantified. Because the rest involved explaining to Loki how Tony was a first class let-down. A born and bred disappointment. And fuck but he wasn't ready for that conversation. No, this was bad enough.

Still turned toward the ocean, salty breeze ruffling the hair falling into his forehead, Tony closed his eyes, shutting the world out. That was the only way he could speak the words, pretending Loki wasn't even there.

”If the perfect person for me, the one who's everything in this world that I need, is a man. What the hell does that imply about me?” Tony felt his fingers clench around the tablet, so hard he was afraid he might break it. But he couldn't make himself let it go. ”I know every goddamn thing people will say about this and it's bullshit. It's a mistake and it's not true and I'm not...” He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. ”I'm not gay.” He almost spat the last word out, like it tasted bad.

A few beats of silence.

”Well, neither am I”, Loki muttered. ”So there's that.”

That made Tony blink and turn to stare owlishly at him. Because honestly, he hadn't thought about it. (Self-centered asshole, remember?) Yeah, there was the fact that Loki had been on a date with that blonde chick when they met. But then there was also the fact that Loki's (supposed) soulmate was also male, after all.

”And you're still fine with this?” Tony pried one hand off the tablet to gesture vaguely between them.

”I swing both ways.” A shoulder jerked up in a careless shrug. ”But that's not the point, really, because none of this is about sex. You know that, right?”

Tony pulled a face and turned away again, hand curling into a fist as it dropped to the armrest. He knew that was technically true, of course. There was no rule stating that soulmates had to be sexually, or romatically, involved. There were mates who were strictly platonic. But Tony also knew the statistics, and those bonds were so ridiculously outnumbered they barely mattered. He guessed it came with having the perfect person for you, tailormade to your needs, around you every day for the rest of your life. Maybe at some point feeling attracted and falling in love was inevitable? At least that's what it looked like on paper. But then Tony knew statistics – he knew nothing about falling in love. He had no idea how that worked for people.

All he knew was that he had no intention of staying around Loki long enough for his defenses to be that worn down, so torn open that he let a _guy_ inside them. Nope. Wasn't happening.

”We're supposed to be negotiating things like that right about now”, Loki continued when Tony never gave a response. ”You don't want us to go that way? Fine. We'll leave it be. It's never been mandatory. We can just keep this a... practical thing. It's all right. And if you're worried about PR, we'll keep dating, too.”

The words were perfectly reasonable, despite the tense note that had slipped into Loki's voice. Reasonable, and true. They could do that. And Tony's mind liked the idea. He could meet up with Loki and shake hands once a day to keep them both healthy and happy, like any other thing he did to maintain himself, like going to the gym or visiting the hairdressers. And then they could turn around and go back to their individual, nicely and neatly not-even-remotely connected lives.

Yeah, he liked that idea a lot.

But then there was the idea of Loki being with someone else. Maybe that blonde bombshell. Or some faceless other woman. Or man. Their hands all over Loki's pale, lanky body. And something dark reared up behind Tony's heart, snapping and snarling and wanting to lash out at anyone putting a finger on what was _his_ and what the _fuck_ was that about?! The reaction left Tony's breath hitching and his face feeling numb, like it had gone bloodless with shock. He felt his fist twitch closed even tighter, trimmed nails cutting into the palm of his hand even though they were so short.

Jesus. He should be all over this suggestion, locking it down while it was there, offered on the table. But getting the words out proved physically impossible. He just couldn't.

So he ended up saying nothing at all, and finally he heard Loki give a sigh, unfold himself from his seat, and leave.

Tony stayed there a long time, watching the sky turn darker. He never picked the tablet back up, and he never stopped trembling.

  
  


**\--- Day 5-12 ---**

Over a week passed by without any real change. Loki tried to start up conversation again, a few times, attempting to coax Tony into doing what they should be doing – getting to know each other and their relationship. But every time Tony hedged and deflected and snapped until Loki threw his hands up and walked off.

It felt like the only expression he saw on Loki's face anymore was a heartbreaking combination of hurt and frustration that Tony didn't even know why he found so painful to look at. That just meant he'd been right all along – they weren't really bound, they had no connection to feed off of, and this was all a mistake.

But still, he did everything by the book. They shared the bed, perched on opposite ends of it, yes, but they were there for at least a few hours every night. And while they were awake they shared the same space most of the time, which was supposed to settle their bond and make it easier for them to pass this certain energy between their organisms, something only soulmates produced, only their mate could tap from, and for the rest of their life they needed that energy to function, once they had felt it, once the bond had been triggered.

Science was still at a bit of a loss to explain how it all worked, but everyone agreed on the basics. In short: soulmates needed each other to live.

Being in close proximity, like in the same room, was enough to keep them functioning, but it wasn't ideal. For them to get the most out of this exchange of energy, they needed physical contact. Intimacy. Most mates solved that with sex. It was efficient, from a purely functional perspective – loads of skin-on-skin contact, physical and emotional intimacy, connection, affection, validation. But any kind of touch worked, really. Touches with intimate intent better than casual ones. Hugs, cuddling, massages, even hair scratches. Tests had shown it worked just as well a sex.

Tony knew all this. He had learned it all in school, just like everyone else, and read up on the latest research regularly out of personal curiosity.

Knowing he and Loki should be busy touching each other right now, and feeling like it could be done, though? Yeah, no, not the same. Touching Loki, or letting Loki touch him, would make this whole thing real in some fundamental way that Tony couldn't take back. Couldn't fix and make right. It was the point of no return, and so far he had managed to stay clear.

_(Even when something inside him was aching and twisting and fluttering, making the muscles in his arms bunch and flex, ready to stretch and reach, to touch. But he forced it down, held it back. At the end of the thirty day Seclusion, he would still have to let Loki go, and he had to remember that.)_

Hours passed slowly, every single one making Tony feel a little bit more broken than the one before.

  
  


**\--- Day 13 ---**

When they were getting close to the half way mark something happened that seemed totally insignificant at the time.

Tony came shuffling into the livingroom one morning (okay closer to noon but whatever), cup of coffee clutched in his hand, and found Loki perched on the edge of the couch seat, folded over his own long thighs so he could tap at the keyboard of what Tony for lack of a better word had to call a laptop. Although he used the term very loosely because that atrocity did not deserve the name, really. It was big, thick and clunky, looked pretty banged up around the edges, and it made a noise like the thing was stuffed full of angry bees. Tony had a hard time believing he'd even existed under the same roof as that horror for almost two weeks and never known. His technology senses should have been tingling, damnit!

He repressed a shudder.

”What in the name of Tesla is that abomination?”

Loki flinched with the surprise of being addressed. Usually he was the one who had to speak up if they were to communicate at all, so maybe that wasn't so strange. He blinked at Tony, seemed to return from somewhere very far away, and then glanced down at his laptop before looking at Tony again.

”My computer?”

”Uh-huh? Right.” Tony took a deep swallow of coffee, rubbed his free hand over his eyes, and when he looked back the fucking thing was still there, whirring frantically, and he shook his head decisively. ”No. Nope. Not happening. Not in my house.” And without another word, only just catching the confused look on Loki's face, he turned and walked out.

About ten minutes later he was back, finding Loki bent over the keys again. The guy looked up quicker this time though, as soon as he heard Tony's steps approaching, and his bright eyes zeroed in on the Starkpad he was carrying, attached to a sleek but sturdy keyboard so it looked more like a laptop than a tablet at the moment. Tony remembered Loki saying something about writing, and he knew just the tablet wouldn't be be great for that. He placed the thing on the table, leaving some air between the tablet and Loki's old piece of crap, and then dropped a memory stick on top of it.

”Move any files you want to keep onto this. And then please, for the love of all that is holy, let me incinerate that eyesore.”

For a moment Loki stared at the tablet, then at Tony. ”I can't take that.”

”Sure you can.” With a dismissive gesture, Tony turned and walked away again, settling in the armchair across the room where he'd made a spot for himself since Loki arrived and occupied the couch. ”The UI should be pretty intuitive. Let me know if you run into any problems.”

He picked up his own tablet and settled in to work. After a while the infernal noise from Loki's old computer died down, and the room was blessedly silent, apart from the barely-there sound of his quick fingertips dancing over the new keyboard.

Something suspiciously like satisfaction curled itself around Tony's heart.

He ignored it.

  
  


**\--- Day 14-17 ---**

Because Tony Stark was used to long, deep dives in a certain river in Egypt, he didn't think much more of the computer thing.

He didn't think about it when he made sure JARVIS ordered more of the kinds of food he'd seen Loki prepare most often, either.

When he woke up in the middle of the night and heard Loki shifting on the far end of the bed, pulling at his duvet, not fully hiding the sound of his teeth chattering, he was too busy fighting down the impulse to roll over and wrap his arms around the guy, warm him up with his own body. So he didn't think anything at all then. And he didn't think when he went to the chest at the end of the bed the next day, pulled out a stack of woolen blankets, and placed them at the foot of Loki's tidily made side of the bed.

Tony didn't think about any of it. He just dove down deeper under the surface, and let the days pass him by.

  
  


**\--- Day 18 ---**

It all had to come to a breaking point, though. Eventually. And by now it didn't take much at all to make Tony crack.

All it did take in the end, was Loki coming to find him out on the balcony again, once more trying to strike up that old, worn conversation about them, about this, about the future Tony could never let them have. So he avoided Loki's questions, as always, and was almost pleasantly surprised when the guy stopped talking a lot sooner than he usually did. But then he made the mistake of turning his head away from the ocean and look over his shoulder where he was standing with his elbows on the railing.

Loki stood just a couple of steps behind him, arms long and limp by his sides, wide shoulders slumped, his pale face looking drawn, eyes dark with something that might have been pain but that was ridiculous because he was fine. Right? Right. Not hurt or anything. At least not anywhere Tony could see. So. He was fine. Just... fine. 

”I thought things were getting better”, Loki said then, voice level, but heavy. So heavy.

Something inside Tony wanted to bristle and shake the implication off. But he just stayed still, staring at Loki over his shoulder.

”I get it, Tony, I do.” His voice started out pretty soft, but gained force with every word. ”Your image and your fragile fucking masculinity can't deal with having me in your life, and that's fine, I told you we can deal with that. But at some point you're just going to have to accept that we're still stuck with each other and we _have_ to deal with it. Somehow.” He pulled a long, slightly shuddering breath, squared his shoulders, and went on. ”And I can't do it all on my own, Tony. So I need you to tell me what you want to do next, because this isn't working and neither of us is getting what we need this way. Not really.”

”You have nothing I need.” Tony wanted to spit it out, but he didn't quite manage. No venom wanted to make its way into his tone and it just sounded flat, something said more for show than anything else. Because they both knew it was bullshit.

”Please.” Loki sneered at him. ”I have _everything_ you need and you know it.”

Tony spun around to face him, growling. ”And what's that, huh? A big, fat dick? A shoulder to cry on? I'm not a fucking girl!” Now there was venom, and plenty of it. So why did it feel like he was the only one burned by it? He sucked down a breath, felt his chest expand, rolling up on the balls of his feet, like a cornered animal trying to look bigger in its efforts to scare away an enemy. ”This is a mistake. _You're_ a mistake!”

Hurt flashed in Loki's eyes again, but then his whole face hardened into something dangerous that made Tony want to curl up in defense. In that look he saw the coming blow that was going to shatter his whole world, and he desperately needed to deflect it. But it was too late already.

”You need someone to take care of.” Loki's words were surprisingly gentle when they came. ”You've been working yourself ragged to save the whole damn world, for years, but those are just faceless masses, and you never see the good you do. No-one ever thanks you, either. You need to be seen for what you do. And I see you, Tony.”

Something snapped.

Because that was _such_ a load of crap! He didn't need any fucking thanks, or recognition, or any of that shit, and no way in fuck did Loki _see_ him! Because no-one did, and that was just the way it was. The way he wanted it.

”There's nothing to see.” His voice was hoarse, torn and jagged at the edges. ”If you think that's what I need from my perfect person, then you're way off. And while we're on the subject, I can't very fucking well be your perfect person either because I'm just not. Okay? I'm not. For anyone. And you'll see that. No, I take that back – you've already seen it, because you have that 'stop treating me like shit' look in your eyes and I _know_ that look but I can't stop because that's what I _do_.” He was panting, shaking, hands curled to fists. ”I don't need anyone to take care of because I can't do that. I'm a selfish, greedy piece of shit and that's not what you need either.”

Loki looked like he'd been slapped across the face, and completely dumbfounded.

Forcibly calming himself down, pulling a slower breath through the thundering of his heartbeat, which seemed lodged in his throat, Tony stared back.

”You should leave”, he ground out at last.

Loki blinked. ”Tony -”

He flicked a hand up to cut Loki off. ”Just get the fuck away from me and save yourself. I'm a mess and I'm going to tear you apart if given even half a chance and you don't deserve that. Hell, I don't even know you, but I'm sure you still don't. No-one does. So just... get out.”

A beat of shocked silence that barely seemed to be broken by the crashing of waves below. Then Loki shuddered, turned, took a wobbly half step on unsteady feet, and tripped himself up.

Tony would beat himself up for it later, but right then his brain went off-line, and instinct took over. That part of him that would never let Loki land on his face on the stone floor. And so the moment he saw Loki trip, he was already moving. Fast and sure and no hesitation what so ever. And he stepped up, turned, and grabbed Loki by the arms before he got too far off balance, holding him up. The palms of his hands firm against the bare skin of Loki's skinny biceps under the short sleeves of his t-shirt as he steadied him on his shuffling feet.

And then the effect of the touch slammed into his gut like a freight train and punched the air right out of him. Tony saw Loki's jaw drop, his eyelids flutter, and he knew he felt it too and a part of him wanted to scream because this was it, this was the thing he'd struggled so hard to avoid, and his own damn instincts had fucked him over.

He couldn't scream, though. He suspected he made some kind of noise, like a moan or a choked off whimper, but it sure was no scream.

It was the single most pleasureable sensation Tony had ever felt. It blew orgasms and drugged highs right out of the water, because it was nothing like that and at the same time like both, balled up into one, only so much better. This was warmth and safety and joy and pleasure zinging through every nerve, lighting his brain up like fourth of July fireworks. Every cell in his body seemed to open up like a flower, facing the sun to bask in the glory of it.

Satisfaction wrapped around him like a blanket. His hungry skin finally at peace. His heart soaking up the touch and expanding, pressing against the reactor casing until it was so full it _hurt_ and Tony still wanted more.

It was coming home.

With a desperate whine Tony finally made his hands, which had curled helplessly tighter around Loki's arms as if an electric current had rushed through him, go slack and release their grip so he could snatch them away. Take a step back. Breathe something that was air instead of breathing _Loki_ and Jesus he had to get away.

Loki was still looking dazed when Tony turned his back on him, and bolted.

  
  


**\--- Day 19-21 ---**

Because JARVIS had a sense of duty he tried to keep Tony out when he came to the workshop, but his resolve was no match for Tony's override codes.

Yeah, he wasn't supposed to isolate himself from his soulmate, but so what? He'd thrown said soulmate out of his house, so it didn't matter anymore. This charade was over and done with either way, and Tony might as well try to forget the disaster the last 18 days had been by drowning himself in his work.

Part of him wanted to drown himself in alcohol, too, and it would have been so easy, considering more or less every bottle in the house was currently stored in a corner of the 'shop. But something made him turn his back on it all and bend lower over the table. 

_(He tried not to let himself think it, but the truth was that he was still flooded by the momory of Loki's touch filling him up, and he didn't want to wash it away with scotch. No matter how much it hurt to keep it.)_

He was alone again, just the way he should be. 

Hours marched by. JARVIS tried to get him to sleep, or at least eat, at regular intervals, until Tony snapped at him to mute, and he was left in peace. DUM-E and U whirred and chirped for his attention, but they didn't know enough about the world to know what he should be doing, or how he was being an even bigger asshole at the moment than he usually was. They just wanted to hand him his tools and maybe get a pat on the head and then they were happy.

He didn't think. He just worked. Watched his own hands as they picked apart the latest version of the Starkphone, tweaking circuits and changed processor. Watched his fingers flip through software and code and applications and pick the best ones, upgrading them even more, putting together the sleekest, most efficient phone the world had ever seen.

When he watched himself picking out the colour for the casing and he chose the exact emerald shade of Loki's eyes, he guessed that he knew who the thing was for, but he ignored it.

Somewhere buried deep inside, hidden under layers of thick, muddy denial, he knew what he'd been doing the last days before the breakdown. He'd been doing exactly what Loki had accused him of needing – taking care of Loki. Made sure he was warm, and fed, and had all the best things. Because only the best was good enough for Loki.

And wasn't that exactly the problem?

Only the best was good enough for Tony Stark's soulmate. And Tony Stark was so far from the best it was laughable.

You could literally throw a rock in a busy street and it would randomly hit someone better than him.

The fucking _rock_ was better than him.

The universe had given him a soulmate, and he'd done nothing but hurt the guy since the moment they met. And why? Because, as Loki had put it, his ”fragile fucking masculinity” couldn't take it?

Yeah, probably. At least in part.

The way a male soulmate reflected on his sexuality had scared him. Terrified him. Shaken the foundation of the image he'd spent his entire life building for himself. Playboy. Ladies man. Straight as a fucking arrow. Anything else was just not thinkable. Few lessons had been ingrained in him more thoroughly while growing up.

Stark men were no goddamn fairies.

So his disgust at himself, his self-loathing, his mind-numbing fear, he'd taken out on Loki. Because Tony was a useless sack of shit and didn't care about anyone else's feelings.

That poor bastard. He really did deserve better. That was the truest thing Tony had ever told him.

Loki was better off this way. Wherever he was, he was better off.

And Tony would fix it. He would invent something to help them both so they would never have to see each other again. That's what he did – invented things, solved problems, fixed things. No matter if science didn't know how this even worked. That had never stopped him before.

They'd be free. Loki could find someone who actually could take care of him, validate and cherish him, just like he deserved. No matter how the very idea nearly ripped Tony's heart to shreds. It was fine, though. Just fine. He'd nearly had his heart shredded before, and he'd made do. He could do it again.

He was Tony Stark. He didn't need anyone but himself anyway. Ignore the way it felt like his skin was peeling off him and his insides shriveling. Feeling like shit was his default state, and this was just marginally worse than the palladium poisoning had been. And he'd solved that.

Give him time, and he'd figure this out too.

Time. That's all he needed.

But after nearly 70 hours in the workshop, time wasn't exactly on his side. He'd nodded off over the almost finished phone a couple of times, but he hadn't slept. DUM-E had brought him bottles of water a few times – most likely prompted to do so by JARVIS – and he'd drained them, but that was all he'd consumed since he left Loki on the balcony.

He was a wreck, and even he knew it.

Tony stumbled out of the 'shop, let JARVIS save and lock down again, and dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom. Eyes already mostly closed in the dark room as he tossed his stained and sweaty clothes on the floor and slipped in between the sheets. He was asleep before he felt the pillow under the stubble on his cheek.

  
  


**\--- Day 22 ---**

Tony had fallen asleep miserable and in agony, inside and out.

He woke up warm, epically comfortable, settled and pleased, heart full to bursting, joy and pleasure seeped through him as if every nerve had been coated in sweet chocolate. When he drew in a breath even his lung capacity seemed almost normal, his body loose and pliant and wide open to the world.

Slowly he became aware that his head wasn't resting on a pillow, but on someone's chest. Bare, silky skin under his, his face cushioned from ribs by a firm pectoral, the soft movements of slow breaths and a steady heartbeat under his cheek and temple. His right arm was wrapped around a slim waist, his other sandwiched between his body and the other. Two arms seemed to be curled around his back and chest and shoulders in turn, steady and secure, but loosely enough that the other person had to be relaxed in sleep. Long, slim legs were tangled with his, hopelessly.

Not even a piece of paper would have fit anywhere between them. Breath barely had room.

In the back of his mind a pin-prick of panic stung him. But then it was gone. Swallowed up by the milk-and-honey pleasure, the sensation of safety and belonging.

He knew it was Loki wrapped around him like an octopus, and he idly wondered why the guy was still here. Why he hadn't packed up and left when Tony had told him he should.

Then that didn't seem important either.

He could make sure Loki left later. Even though the thought of untangling himself from these smooth, fabulous limbs almost made tears flood his eyes. Because it just felt _too good_ , so fucking good, and every discomfort, every little ache and pain, every single doubt, just washed away in the flood of _Loki_ and _warmth_ and _home_ that was rushing through his very bones.

How was he supposed to live without this now?

And while Tony squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, felt a hot tear escape the corner of his eye and run down onto Loki's chest, he knew the answer. Loud and clear.

He _wasn't_ supposed to.

Then Loki stirred, and fear sparked in Tony's heart. Fear of being pushed away. Rejected. Even though it honestly was no more than he deserved.

Loki stretched a bit, pulled in a long, slightly unsteady breath. And then he curved in even closer around Tony's body, arms flexing tight, his face coming around to bury itself in Tony's dirty hair. That breath a hot, humid gust into it when he let it back out. And then he went limp again, asleep. He had never truly woken up.

Tony was still and tense for a few heartbeats. Then he couldn't hold on to the tension any longer. It was swallowed up in comfort and pleasure and _good, so good, this is so fucking good_ and then it was gone and Tony drifted off back to sleep as well.

* * *

When he woke up next time he was on his back, but still tangled up in Loki. He blinked his eyes open and realized his head was turned in Loki's direction, that Loki was awake too, and already watching him, head propped up in a hand, elbow buried in his own pillow. The room was more brigthly lit now, but Loki's eyes were still blown and dark, half-shuttered, his lips wet and slack, like he couldn't properly close his mouth, and Tony was fairly sure he looked just as blissed out himself. He definitely felt the way Loki looked.

”You came back”, Loki said. Or slurred, more like.

Tony winced a little, discomfort there and gone again in the blink of an eye. ”To be fair? And honest? I thought you'd left.” He sounded just as messed up.

”Idiot”, Loki muttered. But there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, exasperated affection burning low in his eyes. Even if Tony couldn't imagine how Loki could muster any kind of affection for him at this stage.

And yeah, he was an idiot, wasn't he? Loki couldn't leave. Neither of them could, ever again.

It still scared him senseless, a shudder wracking his body at the thought, but then Loki's hand stroked down the side of his ribcage and Tony _moaned_ and just fucking _melted_ into his body.

What was even dignity?

And while he was on that note:

”I'm sorry”, he murmured, partly into the pillow, but eyes flitting over Loki's face. Half expecting a blow. Half a kiss. Not sure which was more terrifying.

He got neither. Loki just stayed perfectly still, holding on. Except that corner of his lips quirked a little bit higher. He didn't answer, but really, what was there to say?

After a little while, Loki finally slipped himself free of Tony's body, rolled off the bed, and picked up a t-shirt to pull over his head. When he turned back again he'd only been gone a few seconds, but Tony already felt cold and empty and rejected, rejected, rejected.

”Go take a shower, Tony”, Loki said, calm and soft. ”I'll make us some breakfast.”

He barely had time to nod before Loki was gone.

Oddly docile and obedient Tony dragged himself out of bed, showered, shaved, got dressed, and jogged down the stairs. He found Loki plating two breathtaking portions of bacon and scrambled eggs, putting the plates out for them on the kitchen island. So he settled on the chair across from Loki, and they ate in silence for a while, his stomach too ecstatic about the food to let him do anything but wolf down more of it.

When he could glance up again he saw Loki sitting hunched in his chair, shuffling his food around on the plate more than eating, a little wrinkle between his eyebrows that Tony could see even when his head was tipped forward like that.

Tony's left hand, the one not clutching his fork, was resting on his thigh. Now he felt it twitch into a fist, struggling against the impulse that had shot down into his fingers straight from his heart. The impulse to reach out, to comfort, to assure that I'm here, I've got you, I'm not going anywhere.

The ever stronger impulse he'd been desperately fighting down since the moment he first laid eyes on Loki in that restaurant.

All the reasons why he'd been fighting were still clear in his mind, too. He wasn't gay. He didn't need anyone. He wasn't good enough for anyone else to need.

It was all a mistake. That's what he'd told himself, everyone else, and even Loki.

With a conscious effort he made his hand relax, rubbed the clammy sweat off his palm against his jeans, and then took his hand out of his lap, to place it on the counter between them, beside their plates. Palm up, fingers curling gently toward it, but open enough that the invitation was clear. Peace offering.

He didn't dare look up, so his own eyes were fixed on his hand while he waited for a reaction – or rejection.

Then Loki's long, slim hand came into view, slowly but not hesitantly. And settled a warm, steady palm against his. Tony's fingers immediately moved of their own accord to curl around it, hold it in place, when that soft current of pleasure and belonging rolled into him.

Tony still didn't look up. His eyes just fell shut for a moment. Then he opened them, sighed, and went back to eating.

Loki didn't say anything, but eventually there came the sound of his fork clicking against the plate again, too.

Their hands never let go.


End file.
